Hope's Design (The Daughters of Riverton Book 2)

by Dawn Kinzer

  She limped out the door without giving him a chance to say another word.

  A few steps later, Hope stopped. Even though she’d meant well, it was a mistake to take the painting to the gallery without Ben’s knowledge. Annie had warned her, but Hope had been so confident she knew what was best for him, she’d refused to listen.

  She needed to apologize—convince him she was sorry. Make things right. She walked back to the shed. Hope took a breath and turned the knob, moving the door enough to slip inside, but she didn’t move beyond the door frame.

  His back facing her, Ben threw a cloth over the lovely painting that only minutes ago had made her feel beautiful and loved. But she’d broken his trust, and he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—forgive her.

  That was it then. Benjamin Greene was done with her.

  ***

  At the sound of the door clicking into place, Ben turned around, expecting to see Hope standing there, but the space was empty. Had he ever felt this lonely? So full of regret?

  Hope hadn’t done anything out of maliciousness. She didn’t mean to hurt him, of that he was sure. But he’d been so quick to condemn what she’d done—actions she’d taken because she believed in him so much, she risked losing her own opportunity. He was a fool, and he’d behaved like the very men he despised for how they treated women.

  What if Hope was right? What if hiding his work—his talent—was the opposite of what God wanted, and Ben had been deceiving himself out of fear? By not showing anyone his paintings, he was protected from rejection.

  Lord, what am I to do? Have I been so wrong all this time?

  He slipped the cover from the painting and gazed at the woman with eyes the color of a bright afternoon sky and hair that reminded him of sunshine.

  Ben groaned. What was wrong with him? He’d spoken without thinking—again—and insulted her.

  What was he doing hanging out in the shed? He needed to go after her. He swung open the door and raced toward the house, just in time to see the back end of the buggy moving as fast as the wheels could handle the road out of the farmyard.

  Too late. Ben sank down on one knee. He could saddle a horse and follow her home. A weight settled on his shoulder, as though God had placed his hand there.

  Wait.

  Like most men, Ben didn’t understand women. What if going to her was what she wanted—needed—from him?

  Wait.

  With his whole being, Ben wanted to chase after her, but if God was telling him to stay put...it was best to give her a little time. Maybe it wasn’t for Hope’s sake but his that God wanted him to hold back. His thoughts and feelings were all jumbled, and more damage could be done if he didn’t untangle them before talking to her.

  Was he ready to completely forgive her? He’d only learned about her betrayal that night, and forgiveness wasn’t something Ben gave without thought and a willingness to never bring up the offense again.

  Of course he’d forgive. He loved her and had begun to believe it might be possible for them to have a life together.

  But tonight had brought heavy doubt.

  He was convinced that she cared deeply for him, but Hope’s strong desire for his success in the art world had led her to betray him. She continued to push him toward public recognition. Was it because she believed that strongly in him? Or was it because she’d be ashamed to be with a man who wasn’t as prominent as the men she’d been accustomed to spending time with in New York?

  Ben wanted Hope in his life, and he thought she enjoyed living in Riverton, but she’d alluded to returning to New York in the future. If not there, she might have opportunities with Eva Lancaster in Minneapolis. If he failed as an artist, he couldn’t ask her to stay in the small farming community and hold her back—he loved her too much.

  Those weren’t the only questions needing answers. Others swirled around in his head, almost making him dizzy. How did he really feel about his painting being left in the hands of a gallery owner? If he were honest with himself and Hope, he’d admit to having more than a flicker of interest in the man’s evaluation.

  The frightening part—what would it mean for Ben if his work didn’t stand the test of careful scrutiny? If told he had no talent, could he continue painting? Or would his passion for art dwindle? Ben hoped he would carry on for the sheer joy of creating something out of nothing, but if that ability were lost...

  On the other hand, his world could drastically change if the gallery owner liked Ben’s work. That remote possibility both excited and scared Ben. Could he finally let go of the guilt he’d carried for years and finally accept the freedom to claim the title artist?

  chapteR TWENTY

  Ben’s kiss played in Hope’s mind as she wrapped a bolt of navy-colored flannel discarded by a customer. Two days had passed since she’d last seen him and confessed to taking his painting—her painting, not that that mattered now—to Minneapolis. She hadn’t made the decision on impulse, aware he might become angry with her. At the time, she was still willing to take the risk because she believed she knew best. But she hadn’t prayed for direction. When was she going to learn? When was she going to seek God’s divine wisdom instead of running ahead of him on her own?

  She’d meant well, but that didn’t excuse her blunder. Hope could pretend she’d shown the painting to Mr. Woodlin for Ben’s own good, but that wasn’t entirely accurate. Truth bathed her with shame—she’d also done it for herself. Love for him had taken root deep in her heart, but she wanted more from him than what he could presently give.

  Prestige and money didn’t matter to her. She didn’t care if he was a poor farmer or a wealthy businessman. But she did yearn to have a husband who wasn’t afraid to take risks, and, despite her encouragement, Ben still insisted on keeping his paintings locked away in his shed, safe from any critical eyes. Fear wasn’t the only problem. Guilt over Percy’s blindness still plagued Ben, but Hope didn’t lack sympathy there. She’d prayed daily that Ben would forgive himself.

  What if she someday became a successful designer? Would Ben ever leave the farm and his comfortable sanctuary to live in a large city? If not, could she give up her dream for him? The man she loved was kind to even the most disagreeable, joked around with the children in the community, watched over her cousin like a little sister, was loyal to his family, and loved God with a passion. The way his eyes lit up when he saw her made her feel...special.

  Hope had left one relationship in New York, only to find herself in one almost as complicated.

  “Only a week before we turn the calendar’s page to October. Customers are starting to plan for colder months ahead.” Annie laid a bolt of gray wool on the counter, then frowned. “Well, don’t you look like cream that’s been sitting out in the heat too long.”

  “Sour?”

  “Curdled. Your face is all scrunched up, like you have a stomachache.” Annie grasped Hope’s hand. “Or is it your heart that’s ailing?”

  “Confusing emotions, Annie. They ebb and flow like the tide at Coney Island. First I’m angry, then hurt, and that turns into sadness until I’m angry all over again.”

  “Ben?”

  “Ben, Eva Lancaster, my parents...” Hope perched her elbows on the counter and laid her head on her hands. “I’m such a mess.”

  “You’ll hear something from Miss Lancaster soon. It’s only been a few days since you returned from Minneapolis, barely time for her to send a note and for it to arrive. And the last letter you received from your parents said they were doing well and in good health. Right?” Annie lifted Hope’s chin and looked directly into her eyes. “Right?” She drew the word out, then the corners of her mouth tipped up.

  “Yes, you’re right—this time.” Hope couldn’t stop a slight smile from twitching on her own face. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Oh, heavens, I’m reminded too often that I make a fool of myself.” Annie winked. “Let me hang on to this one victory, cousin.”

  “You may cling to it with both hands.”
Hope tossed her a spool of ribbon. “Tie it up with a bow and display it for all the world to see.”

  Annie grinned as she grabbed the spool. The end of the ribbon wrapped around her right arm and trailed through her fingers. “I may do just that.”

  A small laugh escaped Hope’s lips. “You always cheer me up.”

  “It’s one of my gifts.” Annie’s eyes sparkled. “Glad to see it’s doing some good.”

  “It is.” Now, if Hope’s talents could someday be put to use. “I’m trying not to be selfish or too disappointed about Miss Lancaster cancelling our dinner engagement. Last night, I painted a card and wrote a note expressing sympathy for her struggle, and I sent it off earlier today. I miss my own mother, but at least I have some assurance she’ll return from Panama.” In her correspondence, Hope had made no mention of her drawings or any expectations of the designer. Miss Lancaster had far more important things with which to concern herself.

  “It was thoughtful of you to consider her feelings.” Annie’s leaned next to Hope on the counter. “I’m funny and cheerful, and you’re generous and kind. If we could put ourselves together into one person, we’d really be a catch.”

  “Right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if Benjamin Greene thought of me closer to a fish that has been lying in the sun too long and has started to stink.” Hope pinched her nose shut and made an ugly face.

  Annie pulled Hope’s hand away from her nose. “Ben will come around. He cares too much to not fix things between you.” She startled, as if stung by a bee. “Oh, my goodness.”

  “What is it?” Hope raced around the counter. “Are you all right?”

  “I got so busy helping a customer, I completely forgot that Mr. Carter asked me to report on some inventory in the back room. I’d better take care of it right away.” Annie scurried off toward the back of the store.

  A familiar customer approached, holding two bolts of cloth. “Hope, dear, Clara is making a new dress for me, and I can’t decide between these two.” Mrs. Hawkins laid similar fabrics on the counter—one a midnight blue, the other forest green. “What do you think?”

  “This shade of blue will look lovely with your coloring.” As Hope smiled at the woman, a chill skittered down her spine. She shook off the strange feeling, wrapped the fabric in paper, and tied the package with a white ribbon.

  Mrs. Hawkins fingered the ribbon. “How lovely. It makes me feel like I’ve just purchased material suited for a fancy gown.”

  Hope had suggested replacing twine with the prettier, more feminine trimming to make such purchases feel special for female customers, and Mr. Carter had agreed after the other clerks wholeheartedly supported the idea. The positive response from the clientele had put a smile on her face many times since.

  “I’m indebted to you.” Mrs. Hawkins tucked her change inside her purse. “My husband says I have a terrible time making decisions, and he’s right. I’d probably still be standing there, not knowing if I should pick the blue or the green if you hadn’t helped me choose.”

  “You’re welcome, and any time you want a woman’s opinion, please feel free to ask.” Hope offered a generous smile. Something didn’t feel right, though Mrs. Hawkins wasn’t a threat. “I’ll be glad to help.”

  “A gem.” Mrs. Hawkins gave a quick nod. “That’s what you are.” She draped the strings to her handbag over her wrist and picked up the package from the counter.

  “That’s very kind of you to say, Mrs. Hawkins. Thank you for coming in.”

  As Hope bid the woman good-bye, she glanced to the left and almost lost her stomach. She could barely breathe. Wearing a satisfied grin, Henry stood a mere six feet away. It was pointless to leave. He’d follow. At least here, surrounded by other people, he’d never make a scene. Henry revealed his darker side only in private.

  “Hello, Hope.”

  She grabbed onto the counter to steady herself. Strong, she had to be strong. Henry would use any signs of weakness against her. Breathe, just breathe. “What are you doing here?”

  Hope had been in Riverton for over three months, and it had been longer since she’d last glimpsed Henry. Aside from being a bit thinner than she remembered, he looked the same. Tall, dark wavy hair, dimples, and eyes the color of German chocolate cake. If only his true demeanor were half as sweet.

  With an arrogant air, he sauntered up to the counter. “I’ve missed you, Hope.” His smile would have charmed any woman who didn’t know him, but Hope knew him too well.

  She glanced around for help. Mr. Carter was in the back room, as was Annie. Most customers milled farther from her counter than they usually did.

  “I didn’t like how we left things, and I wanted another chance to talk. You didn’t make it easy to find you, but persistence paid off, and here I am.” His self-satisfied smugness grated on her.

  “How did you find me?” she whispered. “When I left New York, I didn’t make my destination public knowledge.” Charlotte would never have told him where Hope was living, and several other friends had agreed to keep it a secret as well, without knowing the truth about her relationship with Henry.

  “After Charlotte slammed the door in my face several times, I called on your friend, Louise Jackson.”

  Hope caught Mr. Carter eyeing them, and for a moment she thought he might rescue her, but a clerk led him to another location. It would be a relief to have Henry shown the door, but the store was filled with customers. For Mr. Carter’s sake she didn’t want to make a scene, and she certainly didn’t want to start any gossip. “What did you say to that poor girl? And please lower your voice.”

  “Louise has always had a soft spot for me, and tears on the third visit convinced her I was sincerely pining away for you,” he said in a more subdued tone. “She decided you and I had a misunderstanding, and I deserved a second chance.”

  “Word can’t express what you deserve.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” His grin carried pure evil.

  “It wasn’t meant as one.” How was she going to get rid of him? “Henry, I’m employed here. I don’t have time to discuss what you want or don’t want. You need to leave, and I don’t mean only the store.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? There’s nothing here for you.”

  “I’m not leaving Riverton until we talk.” His eyes softened and his shoulders dropped. “I’m not here to make trouble,” he said softly.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “To apologize for being a cad.” Henry fingered the fedora in his hands as though nervous. “I’m staying at the Sherlock Hotel. Please have supper there with me tonight.”

  Hope wasn’t going to be taken in by his sudden contrite demeanor. “No, Henry. I don’t want anything more to do with you.”

  Even as the words passed her mouth, Hope knew it wouldn’t matter what she said. Henry wasn’t leaving Riverton.

  “You’ll change your mind.” He tipped his hat to her, placed it on his head, and sauntered out the door.

  ***

  Ben wiped the remaining trails of shaving cream from his face with a towel and surveyed his reflection in the small mirror hanging above the sink. First the left side, the right, then the chin. Good. Clean without any nicks. He didn’t want to meet Hope looking like he’d gotten caught in barbed wire.

  His hands gripped the edges of the sink as he bowed his head. Lord, help me find the right words. How many times had he whispered that plea during the day? Once he’d decided to ride into town that evening to talk to her, he’d begged God that Hope would forgive him for being an ungrateful clod, but he’d also prayed for his own change of heart.

  He’d wrestled with ongoing questions since the night she’d confessed to taking and leaving his painting at the gallery, and he’d forgiven her. But putting what she did behind him was a different matter, because he wasn’t sure he could count on her to not do something similar again. He wanted—he needed—to forgive and forget this time.

  After seeing his pare
nts fight and make up for years, Ben knew from their example that love wasn’t always easy, but challenges didn’t make a commitment to another person any less real or powerful. He didn’t know any married couples who cared and honored each other more than his parents.

  It had taken a spunky, stubborn, independent woman coming into his life to realize how much he wanted that for himself. A gal who used her artistic talents to sketch dresses, of all things. And she was talented. He just hadn’t humbled himself in front of her to admit it, but he would. He’d encourage her to draw whatever she wanted, as long as it made her happy.

  “So, you’re finally going to talk to Hope?”

  Ben glanced at the mirror at Jake leaning against the doorframe. “I need to set things straight with her. Right now it feels like she’s on one side of the Grand Canyon, and I’m on the other.”

  “And you’re ready to build a bridge to the other side.” Jake rubbed his jaw. “It’s about time.” He leaned over and patted Ben’s shoulder. “You better get a move on, brother. You don’t want to arrive too late. I hope it goes well. I really do.”

  chapteR TWENTY-ONE

  Pleased with the lines of the skirt, which flared slightly at the bottom, Hope studied the design. Wool, with the exception of silk for the high collar and part of the bodice. Now color. She dipped her paint brush into pale sage watercolor paint and added a green wash to the sketch. At first, she’d envisioned swirls of beige embroidery on the bodice and down the skirt along both sides of the center panel, but the dress would look more elegant and finished if it included similar stitching along the hemline and bottom of the sleeves.

  A rapping noise on the door jolted Hope, and she dropped her brush on the table. Her heart matched the rhythm of a sewing machine needle pulsing at full speed. Her intuition whispered the answer, and her breathing quickened.

  A second knock sounded. A quick peek through the curtains hanging on the window to the side of the door confirmed her suspicion. Henry.